Conscience

Conscience

By Teguh Winarsho AS

I still cannot change my fate although I have lived a married
life for three years now and have a child. Just like when I was a
university student, I now live on a monthly "subsidy" from my
parents. What else can I do? I simply have to accept the fact
that I still need this "subsidy" to survive. But, please, don't
call us lazy bones. My wife and I have never stopped trying to be
financially independent. Trying and trying and trying.
Unfortunately, luck is still not on our side.

My wife is a graduate of a teacher's training institute. She
has applied for the position of a teacher at a government school
several times but is yet to get lucky. She has to be content to
work as an honorary teacher at several places, hopping from one
senior high school to another just to earn a meager amount of
money at the end of the month. I really don't have the heart --
or, perhaps, courage, to mention how much she earns a month.
Well, on second thought, does she really earn anything at all?
How much does she have to spend on transportation, hopping from
one school to another every day? It is a struggle indeed.

I myself have always sent in an application every time there
is a civil service registration opening. I wouldn't stick to
short-story writing if I could be accepted in the civil service
and proudly put on the batik uniform of Korpri (the Corps of the
Civil Service of the Republic of Indonesia).

Every night I have to stay up very late to finish a short
story -- though I cannot be sure whether this story will ever be
published -- so that I can spend the honorarium for my child's
milk. Well, in fact, you cannot write a short story without
spending your own money first. You need the paper, cigarettes,
diskettes or even coffee. Unless you get your honorarium --
meaning that your short story is published -- every month you
will have to spend money for nothing.

My hand suddenly trembled just as I was about to knock on the
door of my father's house. Suddenly I was seized by a great fear.
I did know where this fear came from, but it suddenly enveloped
my whole being. When I left home, I mustered all my courage for
this meeting with Dad.

Our meeting two months earlier was still fresh in my mind. In
a departure from his usual habit, he coldly received me. I was
really in an awkward position. After chatting with him for some
time, I found out why he had such a cold attitude toward me.
Again, the same old reason: You haven't got a job, son.

Dad was comparing my fate with that of Herman, the son of our
next-door neighbor, who had just been appointed a civil servant.
He said Herman was very serious and diligent in his university
years so that as soon as he graduated he could get a job.

I knew for sure that Dad was being sarcastic. True, when I was
a university student I took part in many extra-curricular
activities. Then, when I joined a non-governmental organization I
was imprisoned along with four fellow activists because of a
demonstration we staged in the campus grounds. The charge was
subversion.

Dad mentioned Herman's name several times. He said Herman was
a good son and that he could always see what his parents wanted
him to do. He also knew how to repay his parents. In short, Dad
said many more good things about Herman. In fact, I knew Herman
inside out. I knew all about his activities, tricks and
reputation. He was very good at currying favor and was really
sly. I believed Dad had heard that Herman was accepted in the
civil service because he had bribed an official in charge of
recruitment. Yes, the whole village, I suppose, knew that
Herman's father had sold two buffaloes for this purpose.

I could understand this bastard Herman that Dad kept on
praising. I knew he used to hate such dirty practices. I still
remember him saying that bribery is strongly prohibited by our
religion. If you bribe someone, then you and someone receiving
the bribe will both be punished for the same sin. Now? Has Dad
forgotten his own words? I quietly asked myself.

"Don't refuse this time!" he said, putting on the table a neat
bundle of money. I almost jumped out of my seat as a result of my
great surprise. How can he have so much money? I wondered.

"I have sold the rice field. Use this money for you and your
wife. If you need some more, I can sell another rice field. What
matters to me is that you both can get a job," he said. He did
not tell me his real intention though.

As soon as I got home, I put the money in a safe place. Well,
it was a substantial amount of money indeed, and I did not want
to pick up quarrel with my wife about it. Marni, my wife, would
be furious if she knew I had brought home the money to bribe
someone. She hates such practices very much.

"Come in!" Dad said when I mustered all my courage and knocked
on the door.

I entered the house and took a seat at some distance from him.
I tried to avoid the peak of his fury. I could not imagine how
furious Dad would be when he learned of my failure to be
recruited by the civil service for the umpteenth time. Yes, I
have failed again. I have failed to be accepted in the civil
service.

"Sorry, Dad, I cannot fulfill your wish," I said, handing over
the money from some two months earlier. The money was still
intact. I did not dare to look at this amount, let alone take one
note from the bundle.

Dad only grinned. His lips trembled. Obviously he was trying
hard not to let his anger get the better of him.

"Stubborn, really stubborn!" he hissed angrily. His face was
red all over. His two eyes were fiery. That was the first time I
had ever seen Dad overcome by rage.

"Haven't I told you the umpteenth time that I can no longer
afford to see you fail. And now? Again you have failed. Come on,
open your eyes wide and look at Herman," he said, still enraged.

"I did not fail, Dad," I said in a hoarse voice. Something
must have blocked my throat.

"Did I hear it clearly? You did not fail, eh?" With great
cynicism he turned his head away from me. In the meantime, Mom,
seated next to him, could not find a word to say.

"No, I didn't fail. At least I did not fail to keep my
conscience clear."

"When things are like what you see around you, you still have
the guts to mention your conscience? To hell with it!"

I looked down, silent. Dad drew deeply on his cigarette.

"Take Marni, your wife, as your example. She has taken my
advice and now she is successful," Dad said again.

"Sorry? Did I hear it correctly that Marni was accepted thanks
to bribery?" I asked. What my father had said shocked me indeed.

Dad chuckled.

"Yes. Sometime ago your wife came here. She told me that you
had not given her the money I had given you. I thought then that
you wanted the money for yourself. So, I have sold another rice
field and I have given the proceeds to your wife," he said. There
was a note of victory in his voice.

Suddenly I felt weak, very weak indeed. I really had to make a
great effort to get up from the chair and take leave from Dad. I
did not regain my energy until Dad disappeared from my sight.

***

When I went through the front gate of my house, I found Marni
sitting in the front terrace. She smiled and gave me a warm
welcome. Her face was radiant. Suddenly, I was sick of her face.
Really sick of it.

Phew! I spat before her. Precisely indeed!

Yogyakarta, 1998

Born in Kulon Progo on December 27, 1978, the writer also
writes poems and essays. His work has been published in
Republika, Suara Pembaruan, Suara Karya, Bisnis Indonesia,
Pikiran Rakyat, Nova, Bernas and Kedaulatan Rakyat. In 1996 his
anthology of poems Kepak Merpati (Flap of a Dove) was published.

-- Translated by Lie Hua